


Rid Of the Monsters in Your Head

by of_feathers_and_bowstrings



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2019-20 Japan Figure Skating Championships, 2019-2020 Figure Skating Season, Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, a journey of self-reflection, implied yuzuvier, personified programs as emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_feathers_and_bowstrings/pseuds/of_feathers_and_bowstrings
Summary: In which Yuzu deals with the aftermath of JNats 2019.----"You've got it all, you lost your mind in the sound..."
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Rid Of the Monsters in Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Yumi, here! It's been a while since I've posted anything. Things haven't been the best lately but I know that Spring will come eventually. :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta @kabigon for helping me get this fic out and for all your comments, suggestions, and encouragements. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

Yuzuru has been in this position before numerous times in his career. He’s no stranger to heartbreak or the feeling of failure. It is inevitable in any sport, but this hits differently. He feels like he’s stumbling around in the dark searching blindly for a light to guide him out of it but no matter how hard he tries, it proves to be a fruitless effort. 

He is lost.

For the first time in a long time, Yuzuru finds himself at a loss of what to do. No matter how hard he fights and improves his skating, it is never enough; this time there is no injury to fall back on. It’s _him_. And isn’t that the real kicker? _He_ is lacking. Yuzuru feels confused but more than anything, he feels so _exhausted._

The Grand Prix Final had stung, sure, but after his disastrous free program at Japanese Nationals, and losing out on the National title, Yuzuru feels completely and utterly defeated. 

He sniffles, burying himself under the covers of the hotel bed so as to hide from the world. His phone beside him lights up with a text notification, he squints at it in the dark. It’s from Javi but he makes no move to look at it, much less respond. He doesn’t have the energy to. It’s not fair to Javi, he knows, but it is all too much at the moment. He kind of wants to lay here and maybe, if he tries hard enough, maybe he’ll fade away with the heavy feelings inside his heart. 

Yuzuru doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he can immediately tell he is dreaming. The sky above him is painted a lovely lilac, infused with orange and pink. Sunset, his mind supplies. Slowly, he sits up to take a look at his surroundings. It appears he is on the rooftop of a building. He stands, walks close to the edge to look out at the horizon and his chest throbs when he realizes he is home. _Sendai._

The city stretched before him is bathed in soft pastel colors, shadows spilling into the crevices where the light does not touch. It’s beautiful and he misses it so much. 

His fingers at his sides brush against something and he looks down to see his trusty little silver suitcase beside him. Taking a breath, Yuzuru closes his eyes and lifts his face towards the sky, breathing in the familiar scents and sounds of his hometown. 

The sweet smell of fresh bread from the bakery across the street. 

The warm scent of coffee from the Starbucks down the road. 

The faint aroma of smoked meat coming from a yakiniku restaurant nearby, salivating just thinking about Sendai’s signature beef tongue.

The sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. There’s a lot of them in Sendai, known for being the City of Trees. 

Yuzuru exhales as he opens his eyes. Sendai is beautiful even with all its scars. He rarely ever gets to spend much time at home these days, but he relishes every moment he can. Things are quieter in Sendai without the chaos the media cooks up and everything else that comes with skating. It is his healing place, his respite after a long, difficult, grueling season. 

Heavy footsteps sound behind him and break him out of his tranquil state. Yuzuru turns to look at the intruder, his eyes widening upon seeing himself, or rather, a version of himself, perhaps? This version is dressed in the blacks and golds of Origin. Origin stares back, his scrutinizing eyes sweeping him over. Yuzuru feels like a bug under a microscope the way Origin looks at him. 

“Pathetic,” is all Origin says. 

Yuzuru opens his mouth to reply but is met with no sound. The words are lodged in his throat, unable to get out. Instead, his mouth just falls open and closed, uselessly. 

“I wonder what people would say if they saw you like this now,” Origin’s voice cuts through him like a knife, “so weak and helpless. It’s a miracle you made it through the season at all.”

Yuzuru clenches his hands into fists, turning away from Origin in favor of staring at the streets below teeming with people. It relaxes Yuzuru a little watching people go about their lives. A smile forms upon his lips as a boy runs down the sidewalk hand and hand with another, both of them laughing and nearly stumbling while they run to who knows where. 

“Ignoring me won’t do you any good,” Yuzuru’s smile falls from his face, Origin coming to stand closer, leaning against the railing, “but perhaps running away is what you do best now.”

“I’m not running…” Yuzuru says, weakly.

“No? Then face me.”

Yuzuru doesn’t move. Origin clicks his tongue, moving to Yuzuru’s other side, trying to get into his view. 

“You can’t even look at me, much less face me. Is it any wonder you’re stagnating? Everyone is moving on, running ahead, and yet here you are wallowing in your own self-pity.” Yuzuru grips onto the railing, his knuckles going white. “You have no direction, no drive, nothing. Tell me, what was the point of bringing me back? I wonder if you even knew what you were doing with me anymore, if you had any idea at all.”

“I-I’m sorry—“

“Are you?” Origin raises a brow, “Sorries don’t win you gold medals and you’ve done a lot of losing over the past few seasons, haven’t you? No Worlds crown, no Grand Prix Final title, and last but not least, your disappointing return to Nationals. You let all those fans, those people that believed in you down.”

Yuzuru tastes copper on his tongue as he bites his lower lip. He knows all of this. He doesn’t need some weird manifestation of Origin telling him things he already knows. 

“What’s worse is the hard work, all the sacrifices everyone has made just so you can stand on the ice is wasted on you. How disappointed they must feel knowing all of that has led to nothing. You don’t deserve their love, their patience, their time. You certainly don’t deserve _his_.”

“Stop—“ Yuzuru cups his hands over his ears, but Origin’s words still reach him, twisting that knife just a little deeper. 

“That they haven’t abandoned you yet is a miracle. But they have always been kind and generous people, haven’t they? It’s more than what someone like you deserves, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Yuzuru crouches down, shutting his eyes, pressing his hands harder against his skull. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to listen to any more of Origin’s poison, true as it may be. He wants to leave, wants to escape, wants to wake up, or maybe just disappear. Disappear and fade away into nothingness.

“Oh? Trying to escape from me?”

_What?_

“Look at yourself."

Yuzuru opens his eyes, slowly, and gapes when he pulls his hands away horrified to see that the tips of his fingers have become transparent, see-through like a ghost. Panic wells up inside of him as he cradles a hand to his chest. He shakes his head, frantically. _This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…_

“Oh, but it is. This is what you wanted, right? To disappear? To become nothing?”

“P-please, stop.”

“Hm, I’d feel sorry for you but you don’t deserve it. Not someone who wallows in his own pity and feels sorry for himself. You disgust me.”

 _I know,_ Yuzuru thinks. He’s sick of himself, too.

“You know,” Origin drawls,” since you’re just going to disappear anyway, I guess you won’t be needing this anymore.”

Yuzuru snaps his head up as Origin snatches the suitcase beside him. Origin is more than a few steps away now, standing near the rooftop staircase. Origin taps his fingers along the handle, spinning it tauntingly. 

“Give that back! That’s mine!”

“You don’t deserve what’s in this bag.”

Yuzuru moves to snatch it back but before he can, a small, blurred figure runs past him and disappears down the steps with his suitcase. “Hey!”

Yuzuru barely takes two steps before Origin sticks his foot out and trips him. Yuzuru brushes it off and continues to run, ignoring Origin calling after him. He nearly stumbles as he misses a step, coming to a doorway at the bottom of the stairs. He throws the door open and—

Bright light nearly blinds him. He pauses, squints against the brightness, not from the sun but from arena lights. A rink. He seems to be at an empty rink. The seats are devoid of spectators and there doesn’t seem to be a single soul in sight.

There is a light touch against his arm before the same shadowy figure from before darts in front of him, luring him onto the ice. Yuzuru gives chase even though he slips and slides without his skates. “Stop! Give me back my bag!” The shadow continues on as if it didn’t hear him. 

A hand wraps around his ankle and Yuzuru crashes down onto the ice. He winces, the cold already seeping into the thin fabric of his track pants. He lifts his head to see a familiar figure in blues and whites lying on the ice. 

Otoñal.

“Still here, are you?” Otoñal’s voice sends chills down his spine, so devoid of emotion, hollow, empty, no semblance to how he’s heard himself before. 

“Please, let me go.”

“What’s the point? You’ll never catch them. You’ll let them get away and that’ll be that. Not like the contents of that suitcase matter anyway.”

“What—“

“You want to disappear, too, don’t you? You’re nearly there.”

Yuzuru’s hands have become fully transparent and he sees the rest of his arms beginning to fade as well. “I-I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

Yuzuru shakily rises to his feet.

Otoñal’s cold hand wraps around him again. Yuzuru looks down at him. Otoñal is staring vacantly up at the ceiling, ice clouding his eyes. “Stay. Lie here with me and we can fade away together. Forget everything. It hurts, doesn’t it? It’s so lonely. Why are we fighting so hard when all we feel is pain?”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? Don’t lie to yourself. It is all in vain. All the training in the world isn’t enough. Better to walk away from it now while there’s still a chance.” Otoñal tightens his grip, “Lay down with me. We can both disappear and escape this world together then nothing will hurt anymore.”

It’s tempting.

Yuzuru wants nothing more than to do as Otoñal says, he can already feel the fight leaving his body. He longs to escape from the scoring, the media storm, the heartbreaking comments from people he thought he could trust, all the negativity that has been piling up for as long as he can remember, but—

“No,” Yuzuru says firmly as he jerks his foot away, breaking Otoñal’s grasp, “I can’t stay.”

Otoñal’s eyes flicker towards him, meeting Yuzuru’s own. For the first time, Yuzuru sees just the slightest bit of emotion break through the ice. In the depths of Otoñal’s soul, something stirs. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Yuzuru backs away before turning and running without looking back. He runs and runs until he comes to another set of doors. He yanks them open and is met with darkness this time. It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the dark. There’s some artificial light coming from the broken windows above, shedding just a sliver of light in this otherwise dark place. His heart sinks when he realizes where he is. 

Ice Rink Sendai.

Except it looks like there haven’t been any repairs at all since the earthquake. The skate rack is still on the ground, skates and debris strewn everywhere, the ice of the rink shattered, busted pipes in the ceiling leaking water droplets that _drip, drip, drip…_ Yuzuru kneels down to pick up a skate, mourning over the scratches on the blades, running his fingers along the edges of the damaged metal.

Silence gives way to the sound of something dragging on the floor. He can make out someone’s footsteps as well. He turns, his eyes rapidly scanning the shadows for the source of the noise. Yuzuru’s heart sinks to his stomach as Masquerade seems to materialize out of the darkness, a wooden baseball bat in tow. Masquerade’s eyes burn with a fury Yuzuru is so careful to keep tempered. 

Yuzuru staggers backward, gripping the skate in hand.

“So, you managed to escape Origin and Otoñal,” Masquerade lifts the bat to rest on his shoulder, “you won’t be so lucky with me.”

“I’m so—“

Yuzuru yelps and ducks just in time as Masquerade swings the bat over his head. “I don’t want to hear it! We have long passed the point of sorries!”

Yuzuru drops the skate, stumbling over his own two feet, losing his footing. He trips over a bench, then gets up to run fast as he can. 

“Weak! Pathetic!” Masquerade screams as he smashes a couple of display cases and slams his bat into already debilitating pillars. “Why? Why isn’t it enough? Why aren’t we enough?”

Yuzuru yelps as Masquerade manages to catch him, gripping him by the collar of his shirt. He grimaces in pain as Masquerade throws him against a wall, surging forward to wrap his fingers around Yuzuru’s throat. “Please—“ Yuzuru chokes.

“Please what? Why are you groveling like some pathetic fool? If you’re just going to whine and cry, do us all a favor and disappear already! Better than being the waste of space and time that you are.”

Masquerade reaches for his bat again and Yuzuru leans out of the way as it comes in contact with one of the trophy displays. Glass rains down upon them. Yuzuru drops down to his hands and knees, crawling away as fast as possible, ignoring the sting of glass cutting up his palms. 

Yuzuru gets up and breaks into a sprint. His legs burn as he runs aimlessly, with no destination in mind. He only seeks to escape. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, beads of sweat running down his temples. There’s a loud crash, followed by the sound of more glass breaking. He can hear Masquerade’s outraged screams and taunts, causing him to run faster.

“Why are you running? I thought you wanted to disappear? I’m just giving you a helping hand! Come back here and face me, you coward! Come on!”

Yuzuru is so tired of running.

As the thought enters his head, Yuzuru’s legs give out from beneath him and he tumbles to the ground breathing harshly. He nearly screams in frustration when he notices his legs are beginning to fade with the rest of him, like a ghostly apparition. 

“Haven’t disappeared yet?” Yuzuru raises his arms in defense, useless as it is, as Origin, Otoñal, and Masquerade stand before him. His bottom lip quivers as his eyes sting with tears.

“Leave me alone.” He pleads.

“Ah, it seems we’ve made him cry,” Origin sighs, “still having a little pity party for yourself, are you?”

“I told you, we should’ve just faded together,” Otoñal chimes in.

Yuzuru curls in on himself as they close in around him, a cacophony of harsh voices trying to break him apart. 

_Help me, please. Someone help me._

“Yuzuru.”

Yuzuru opens his eyes. The voices disappear and Yuzuru is filled with sudden calm. There is darkness at first, then there’s a faint glow that appears in front of him. A figure dressed in blues and greens kneels beside him, a smile on their face so gentle Yuzuru wonders if he’s ever smiled like that himself. 

“Hope and Legacy,” Yuzuru whispers, eyes wide, mouth agape in awe.

“It seems you’ve gotten a little lost in your head, hm?” Yuzuru nods. “That’s okay. It happens to all of us sometimes, but we can always find our way back.”

Hope stands before taking Yuzuru’s hand in his own and tugging him back onto his feet. Almost instantly, Yuzuru stops fading. “There. Feel better?”

“Thank you.”

Hope squeezes his hand and tugs him along. Bit by bit as they walk through the dark, light begins to shine through and Yuzuru sees Haru, who stops in his pursuit of a butterfly to wave at him, happily. Starlight glimmers overhead, the same way the sky did all those years ago on that dark, dark night of the earthquake and tsunami. 

“Notte,” Hope calls out, and a single star falls from the sky. Yuzuru watches in amazement as the star glows, morphing into the program Yuzuru knows so well. “Notte here will take you to get your suitcase.”

Notte bows gracefully. 

“This way, Yuzuru.”

Yuzuru follows after him, overwhelmed by the sheer goodness he feels emanating from this place. It’s a relief after dealing with that other dreadful place. “I have to apologize on behalf of him for taking your things,” Notte’s voice is soft, soothing, “he just wanted to protect it.”

“Who—“

Yuzuru doesn’t get a chance to ask. A shadow barrels into Yuzuru’s side and nearly knocks him over but Notte keeps him steady. Yuzuru looks down to see a mushroom haired child. “It’s you. You’re the thief.”

“I took it just in case,” the boy says. “I didn’t want it to disappear. It’s important! I’ll give it back but you have to promise first.”

“What am I promising?”

The boy lets go to present Yuzuru with the suitcase, gesturing for him to kneel down. Yuzuru does so that he’s on eye level with the child. The boy leans in to whisper, “you have to promise me you’ll always take care of it, okay? Even when it’s hard. Even if you forget sometimes.”

Yuzuru frowns but nods, anyway.

The little boy steps away from him to open the suitcase. Yuzuru finds his skates in there as expected, but unexpectedly there are other things, too. Yuzuru reaches out for it but the boy grabs his hand. “These are the most precious things to us. They are a part of us.”

Yuzuru examines the contents of the suitcase. Tucked beside his skates are his two Olympics medals, his gold from NHK 2015, the bronze from his first senior Worlds competition, the gold from Junior Worlds. There are crumpled up flyers Yuzuru remembers using as baseballs when he was younger. Beneath all that are photographs, photographs of his competitions, ice shows, coaches, friends, family…Javi. 

“Who _are_ you?” the boy asks.

Yuzuru pauses, a little dumbfounded by the sudden question. It’s obvious, isn’t it? 

“I am Yuzuru.”

The boy shakes his head. “That is your name but _who are you_?”

Yuzuru doesn’t really know how to answer the question. Or perhaps, he could once but the answer seems to escape him at the moment. The boy looks at him sadly for a moment before his gaze goes steely. He reaches out and smacks both hands against Yuzuru’s cheeks, effectively getting his attention. 

“You know the answer deep down inside. It’s how you’ve gotten this far. You know who you are. You’ve always known it.”

“It’s not enough—ow!”

Yuzuru hisses as the boy smacks his head against Yuzuru’s, not hard enough to bruise but enough for it to sting. Notte pats the boy on the head, admonishing him for being mean. The boy pouts but mutters a small “sorry” under his breath.

“You shouldn’t say things like that or else you’ll keep thinking things like that when it’s not true.”

“I’ve let everyone down.” Yuzuru hangs his head. “I can’t be the Yuzuru that everyone expects me to be.”

“You only need to be the Yuzuru that _you_ know you can be.”

“I lost—“

“It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last, you know that.” The boy picks up his bronze medal and puts it around Yuzuru’s neck. “But we have to keep fighting even when it’s tough. That’s what we always do. That’s how we got here.”

“Even if I fight, it never seems to go my way. The judges—“

“Score is score, skate is skate. They are different things, right?”

Yuzuru’s eyes widen. Those are words he’d spoken ages ago, it seems like. Yuzuru feels like he’s lived through multiple lifetimes at this point, his soul so weary. The past seems like such a far-off place he barely remembers.

“You can’t control what the judges do, but you can control what you do. Even if you are not rewarded for it like you deserve to be, you owe it to yourself to skate the way only you can.”

Yuzuru reaches for his skate, feeling the leather beneath his fingers. 

“I don’t want to let everyone down again. I want to grow stronger.”

“And you will,” the boy places his hand on top of Yuzuru’s, “our worth is not determined by the number of losses, it’s how we handle them and rise up after everything has burned to ashes. We nearly lost everything once and we’ve come back from it stronger. We can do it again.”

“Do you really think I can do it?”

The boy’s eyes blaze determination blazing on those young eyes, “Absolutely. There’s still the quad axel, after all. You have much to do and you will get there.”

“How do you know?”

“I know, of course I know,” the little boy grins, “because I know you. And you do, too. You just have to remember.”

The boy lifts a hand to bump his fist against Yuzuru’s chest before throwing himself into Yuzuru’s arms. “Keep us close to your heart and never forget why you started,” the boy says as he fades away.

Yuzuru slips the medal off and places it carefully back in the suitcase. He closes it and hugs it against himself, squeezing it tightly. Notte places a hand on his shoulder. “You are strong, Yuzuru, and you are brave. You have people that believe in you no matter the outcome. You just have to believe in yourself, too.” 

“Thank you, Notte.”

Notte nods as he fades away as well and is replaced with Hope. There is a light dancing in Hope’s eyes that makes Yuzuru feel giddy almost. “Have you found what you were looking for?” Hope asks.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

Yuzuru shuffles a little, biting his lip and flexing his fingers. Hope steps forward to embrace him, “You’ve been through a lot. No one can blame you for the way you feel sometimes.”

“It’s just that for the first time, I don’t really know which direction to go in. I’ve always had a vision for my skating, and now I don’t know if it’s the correct one.”

“Yuzuru,” Yuzuru lifts his head to meet Hope’s kind eyes, “why do you skate?”

There are a lot of reasons he skates. For Sendai, for his fans, for Japan, but more than anything, he skates because— “Because I love it.”

“Don’t let go of that feeling. Hold it close to your heart.” Hope pulls away to grasp his shoulders, “Hold onto it whenever you feel this way. Remember that what seems like an endless winter, in the end—“

“Spring always comes.”

The soft chiming of bells fills the air. A gentle breeze blows past him, ruffling his hair. Haru is by his side, offering nothing more than a sweet smile, but that alone is enough for Yuzuru. He turns towards where the darkness is thickest, the feeling of dread almost suffocating him before gone. 

“About those guys…”

“It’s not as simple as telling them to go away. They’re as much a part of you as we are, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to deal with them.”

“How do I do that?”

“By being honest with them and accepting them as they are.”

“What if they become too much?”

“Silly,” Hope chuckles, “that’s why you have important people by your side. You are never fighting alone. If you don’t have strength on your own, borrow from them.”

The light flickers, Yuzuru blinks once, twice and he’s back in Ice Rink Sendai, the voices swirling around him once more. “Enough,” he says, quietly, but firmly.

The three fall silent.

Yuzuru takes a calm breath, exhaling slowly as he goes to Masquerade first. He takes the bat from his hand and tosses it to the side. “This is not the way to do things. You’ll hurt someone.”

Masquerade frowns. 

“But I understand you and I don’t blame you. We can use these feelings toward becoming better, stronger. Are you with me?”

Yuzuru holds out his hand. Masquerade stares at it, jaw clenching, flames flicker in those dark eyes, but he takes Yuzuru’s anyway. Masquerade gives him a firm nod before he disappears. A rush of emotion goes through Yuzuru, a hot spark of anger but he gains control over it quickly. 

Next, Yuzuru turns to Otoñal. Just as the little boy had done, Yuzuru smacks his hands against Otoñal’s cheeks, lightly. “You are stronger than this. I know the world seems against us sometimes, but there are people who are still with us, who believe in us. We just have to be brave enough to reach out to them to ask for help.”

“All the love and support in the world doesn’t mean we’ll win medals.”

“Maybe not, but we can use it as motivation to keep going. So, what do you say?”

Otoñal stares, the ice in his eyes melting away. Yuzuru sees a flicker of doubt in them but he nods anyway. Just like Masquerade, Yuzuru feels him as Otoñal fades from sight, a cold feeling in his chest that soon ebbs away.

Yuzuru finally turns to the last one standing. Origin is there, leaning against a pillar dressed in the purple costume this time, arms crossed and face tense. He looks vulnerable now, human. Yuzuru nods to himself before stepping forward. 

“You think you’re just going to magically fix everything? Do you think it’s that simple? Do you really believe you won’t fall back into this place again? You—you—“

Yuzuru closes the distance between them, enveloping Origin in a hug. Origin stiffens. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“I seem to wrestle with you the most these days. You are right about everything you said about me. Maybe I am a coward for running away before. Maybe I don’t deserve all the support everyone gives me.”

“So, you admit it then? You know you’re a waste—“

“I also know that I am more than what I have been made into. I know that I want to be someone that deserves that love. The love I know you crave deep down.”

Yuzuru holds him tighter, gives it a second or two before Origin starts to tremble. He hears the tell-tale signs of a sob working its way up Origin’s throat as he digs his nails into Yuzuru’s back. “Are you going to make me disappear then? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Yuzuru shakes his head.

“I know I can’t. I’m not getting rid of you. I’m accepting you as you are: A part of me.”

“You’re a stubborn idiot.”

“I know.”

Origin goes still in Yuzuru’s, vanishing into him and leaving Yuzuru in the dark again. Yuzuru closes his eyes to inhale a breath of relief. When he opens his eyes, Ice Rink Sendai is restored, barely a trace of the disaster left behind. 

He senses a presence beside him and glances over to see Seimei. Yuzuru tilts his head in question. Seimei raises a brow in response. “You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

“Impossible.”

“Good,” Seimei stands taller, “we have work to do.”

The first thing Yuzuru notices when he wakes up is that the covers are pulled back so he is no longer buried beneath them. Second, his phone has been moved to the bedside table, plugged into the charger. His mother had probably checked in on him at some point. And third, the heavy, awful feeling in his chest he’d gone to sleep with was significantly lighter now.

It’s far from gone but it’s better than it was before. For now, Yuzuru considers that a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but a step in the right direction. He leans over to grab his phone to check the numerous encouraging and supportive text messages and voicemails left by friends, his coaches, and, most notably, Javi. With a secret smile, Yuzuru opens Javi’s text from last night.

**_Hey, I just wanted to check up on you. Are you ok?_ **

Yuzuru considers the question. If he’s being honest…

**_Not really, but I will be._ **

Yuzuru waits as he sees the little chat bubbles pop up. A minute later, Javi sends his message. 

**_You fought your hardest and that is all anyone can ask of you. You lost, and I know you take your losses hard, but fighting your hardest when you’re at your lowest is something to still be proud of._**

****_I am proud of you. I am always proud of you, and will always be here if you need me. :)_ ** **

A tear or two spills down Yuzuru’s cheeks even as he smiles. He sends back a ‘thank you’ before turning off his phone. He still needs to process and think about things. This part, he feels he needs to do alone but when he’s ready he’ll call Javi, and maybe they’ll finally be able to have a proper talk. When he’s ready he’ll pick himself up and extend a hand to his coaches, his family, and they’ll all move forward together. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if you could guess what emotion each program represents...


End file.
